


Aliped

by StarshipEnterprise



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Handcuffs, If You Squint - Freeform, Light Bondage, Lots of that, M/M, Metal Arm Kink, Orgasm Denial, Post-Civil War, Riding, body worshipping, foot fetish (but not really), light Dom/sub tones, porn with a little plot, recovering Bucky fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 20:10:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6485818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarshipEnterprise/pseuds/StarshipEnterprise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Steve kisses along the seam where metal meets flesh, and not light kisses like earlier.  Hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses all along the neglected skin.  He has to be getting the cold metal on his lips as he goes, yet it doesn't seem to deter him, his hips still rutting in a steady rhythm.  Bucky watches him with a mix of confusion and fascination, until Steve licks flat up the line of scars and Bucky's eyes roll back in his head.  He can practically hear the little shit's satisfied smirk after that.</i>
</p>
<p>Bucky has reservations about his metal arm.  Steve really, <i>really</i> likes his metal arm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aliped

**Author's Note:**

  * For [otabeari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/otabeari/gifts).



When he was with Hydra, they used to keep him on so many different types of drugs - the detox of which was absolute hell - that he didn't really know anything but blind compliance. All instincts not necessary to his survival were neutered, put on hold for the sake of being Hydra's guard dog. Without the serum, he's certain he never would have recovered.

So yeah, orgasms are one of Bucky's favorite things that he got back, right up there with his free will.

Steve teases him constantly, calling him a horny teenager whenever he takes too long in the shower, or presses Steve up against the door the second they get home to their apartment. And Bucky can't do anything but fucking grin, because he feels like one, and it's fantastic.

He's rubbing one out on their bed one day, taking advantage of the time until their dinner cools enough to eat, Steve sitting in the living room watching the news and likely oblivious to Bucky's antics. Which is fine, Bucky likes coming on his own almost as much as he likes coming with Steve. He's right at that edge of bliss, hand moving fast over his cock, back arching off the bed as he works his way a little closer, just a little bit more--

Bucky has learned, by now, that muscle memory does not require that said muscles are still attached to your body. It's the brain that remembers. So when "muscle" memory kicks in and makes him switch hands it shouldn't be a surprise, except it is, because his aching cock is suddenly enveloped in cold, unforgiving metal, and it's like being doused in ice water.

"Fuck!" Bucky yells at the ceiling, decidedly _not_ in ecstasy. He's not touching himself anymore, both hands about ready to pull his hair out in frustration. His pleasure level went from a nine-point-five to a negative one at the speed of light, just like every other fucking time he tries to use his left hand. The second the cold metal touches his skin, the images in his head of that time he and Steve went skinny-dipping in Italy are replaced by lab coats and hypodermic needles.

He's fine. He hasn't been with Hydra for more than two years, and he's been with Steve for four months, even if not all that time was exactly romantic. There were the psychotic outbursts, the Avengers in-fighting, far too many psych evaluations, and a near-death scare, but that's all behind them. Those memories shouldn't affect him like they do.

He runs a hand over his face. His right hand.

His yell must have been loud enough for Steve to hear in the other room, because there's a soft knock at the bedroom door.

"Buck? Everything okay?"

Bucky groans loudly in response. He must look ridiculous, his tank top rucked up and sweatpants pushed down his hips, body splayed gracelessly across their bed, but he doesn't make any effort to remedy that. This is Steve. He's seen him looking much worse.

"Can I come in?" Steve persists through the closed door.

"Only if your dick is coming too," Bucky mutters bitterly. Steve laughs softly and Bucky hears the door open, still staring up at the ceiling. The bed dips and a moment later Steve is in his line of sight, hovering over him on his hands and knees in all his shirtless glory.

"Your arm again?" He asks, looking entirely too gentle and smitten for Bucky's current state of mind.

"Got it in one," Bucky deadpans. Steve makes a sympathetic noise in his throat and leans down to kiss along the underside of Bucky's jaw, lingering warm and soft. It's sweet, but sweet isn't what Bucky needs right now. Steve can be tender and loving, sure, but he'll fuck like a bull when he's in the mood, and if there's anything in the world that can make Bucky come without the help of _anyone's_ hand, it's that.

"Fuck me," he says bluntly, his voice low and rough, the way that always makes Steve's eyes go dark. He can't see Steve's eyes now, so he loops his mismatched arms around the back of his neck and bends his legs, rolling his hips up in a more direct attempt at giving Steve a hard-on.

"Hang on," Steve murmurs against Bucky's shoulder, still stubbornly kissing his way across his skin. Bucky groans in frustration again.

"Steve-"

"I said hang on."

The volume of his voice doesn't rise, but the unspoken "that's an order" is evident in his tone. A Captain's voice. He doesn't sound angry, and the tender kisses still trail over his skin, but Bucky wouldn't even think of disobeying.

He's also hard as a fucking rock.

As much restraint as it takes, Bucky lies still and obedient for him and lets Steve do his thing. Steve worshipping him like this always gives him goosebumps, enjoying it while at the same time getting the small, unsettling feeling that he doesn't deserve this. That he should be giving something back. So he brushes his fingertips across Steve's warm skin - the fingers on his right hand, because there's no way he's subjecting Steve to his left - until he finds his nipple, rubbing the pad of his thumb in gentle circles around the nub.

Almost immediately there's a large hand gripping his wrist and tugging upwards, away from Steve's body, up to the headboard. Steve keeps it pinned there, and Bucky makes a sound of confusion.

"Wha's that for?" he whines indignantly, making a halfhearted attempt to tug his hand free. He keeps his left hand safely on Steve's waist, over the sweatpants he's wearing.

Steve stops covering Bucky in kisses to lift his head up and look at him, with a small smile that might just be a smug smirk.

"Just enjoy yourself," he murmurs, dipping his head to kiss the corner of Bucky's mouth. "Lemme do the rest."

Bucky squirms but Steve remains calm and attentive, now working his way along Bucky's collarbone, gently sucking and nibbling here and there. Bucky can't focus on how nice it feels, he wants to _touch_ , he's supposed to return the favor, this isn't how it's supposed to work, he has to earn this, and he's breathing too fast but it's not because he's turned on--

"Mind if I cuff you to the bed? I wanna be able to use both my hands," Steve mumbles casually against his skin, and instantly Bucky goes still.

This time it _is_ because he's turned on.

They bought the handcuffs as a _maybe_ , almost as a joke. They've sat in the nightstand drawer for weeks, only touched when one of them needs to push them aside to get at the lube.

"Buck?"

Shit, he's been staring at the ceiling. Steve probably expects an answer.

"Yeah, yes," he stammers out. "Yes, do that." Steve laughs, the tense apprehension easing from the muscles in his shoulders.

Bucky's entirely unprepared for the way his body reacts to the thick leather being buckled around his wrist. His dick, softened over the last few minutes of inattention, is hard and throbbing again, leaking precum onto his belly.

"Why not this one too?" He asks somewhat breathlessly while Steve fastens the other end of the cuff to the headboard, wriggling his metal fingers which clink quietly against each other.

"I've got plans for that one," Steve says in the tone of voice that usually means he's about to come up with some insane scheme that winds up getting them both captured but _that was the plan all along, Buck, trust me!_ Bucky has heard Steve Rogers use that particular voice far too often for his liking, so he remains cautious.

Now that Bucky is at least somewhat restrained, Steve quickly moves beyond light touches and kisses. Within moments they're both completely naked thanks to him, Bucky's tank top pooled around his cuffed arm, and Steve's rutting rather insistently against him, kissing hot and heavy. Bucky moans, rolling his hips up appreciatively and reveling in the hot drag of their lips, getting just a little lightheaded.

Being discouraged from returning Steve's affection as much as he'd like to makes his mind race. But being unable to, physically _prevented_ from touching him...somehow that's bliss. His muscles loose, mind blank. All responsibility gone, Steve taking the wheel by force and ordering him to enjoy the ride. And Bucky always did like taking Steve's orders.

His metal hand lays unmoving at his side, no longer a safe place to rest it now that Steve's clothes are off. Besides, he said he had plans for it, and Bucky's not about to get in the way of that.

Steve doesn't get to Bucky's arm immediately; he moves down to Bucky's left shoulder once Bucky needs to break the kiss to breathe, making his body jolt slightly when he feels lips at the scarred seam where flesh and metal meet. The skin there is less sensitive from decades of abuse, and he can only sense faint pressure on his prosthetic, but the area is touched so little that it still comes as a surprise. Hell, Bucky still finds it hard to believe that Steve doesn't make a face whenever he sees Bucky shirtless.

Steve kisses along the seam, and not light kisses like earlier. Hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses all along the neglected skin. He has to be getting the cold metal on his lips as he goes, yet it doesn't seem to deter him, his hips still rutting in a steady rhythm. Bucky watches him with a mix of confusion and fascination, until Steve licks flat up the line of scars and Bucky's eyes roll back in his head. He can practically hear the little shit's satisfied smirk after that.

"I've always liked it," Steve admits almost too quiet to hear, his big, warm hands rubbing up and down Bucky's ribs and making him shiver. Bucky looks down at him again and he's got his cheek resting against his hard metal shoulder, goddamn hearts in his eyes.

"That makes one of us." He can't keep the quiet shock out of his voice, despite the dry humor he's going for. The corner of Steve's mouth twitches up, but it only lasts a moment.

The rhythm of their hips picks back up, both of them moaning softly. Bucky tugs at the leather cuff, a thrill shooting down his spine when it doesn't give. Steve's forehead comes to rest against his, but his hand stays on Bucky's left arm, trailing slowly down like he's taking his sweet time feeling every smooth panel and ridge on the damn thing. Bucky's careful to keep it still, not wanting to pinch his fingers between the larger plates, but when Steve's fingertips brush his palm, the whole prosthetic twitches involuntarily. The sensors on his hand are much more sensitive, likely designed for pulling hair triggers on sniper rifles. He can almost feel the pattern of Steve's fingerprints.

Tenderly, Steve's fingers slip between the metal digits, and Bucky very carefully closes his hand around Steve's, mindful of its strength. He won't hurt Steve, he's in control of the arm, but why Steve would even _want_ to touch it is a mystery to him. Despite what he says about liking it - Bucky has heard its aesthetically pleasing, if you don't see the scars, and it's certainly useful in combat - it's cold and rigid and doesn't belong in the bedroom.

Regardless, Steve brings it up between them while they rock together, kissing the back of it. The plates on his hand, as well as being more sensitive, are more smoothly connected, so there's not so much risk of pinching, which is a damn good thing because Steve continues messing with it like its the most fascinating thing in the world. He also keeps varying the rhythm of their hips, always painfully slowing down as Bucky approaches that blissful edge, dragging it out as long as he can. And with one arm restrained and the other commandeered by Steve, Bucky can't get the leverage to get the friction he needs. All Bucky wanted was a quick way to get off, but as per usual, Steve's gotten them into way more than he bargained for.

" _Steve_ ," he whimpers breathlessly, writhing on the mattress. His cock is starting to ache now, but Steve is paying far more attention to his hand, bending and straightening different fingers in turn and running his tongue along them.

Without warning, Steve sucks two of his fingers into his mouth.

Suddenly Bucky isn't so focused on coming. He can feel the heat of Steve's mouth, how hard he's sucking, the tiny movements of his tongue. But perhaps even better is how incredibly blissed-out he looks, eyes closed and red lips wrapped around him. Like he's never had anything more wonderful in his mouth. Bucky's fucking _hypnotized_.

"That...can't taste very good." His words sound slurred and hazy even to his own ears. A moment later he almost wishes he hadn't spoken because Steve looks up at him through those long eyelashes, eyes darker than Bucky's ever seen. Bucky's used this arm, this hand, to end lives, and Steve's sucking it like it's a cock and he can't get enough.

He pulls off slowly, holding Bucky's gaze the entire time, both his mouth and Bucky's fingers wet and shining. Steve kisses his fingertips.

"I love all of you," he murmurs, his voice low and rough. He leans up to kiss Bucky softly, and only then does Bucky realize he's been staring at Steve with his mouth hanging open. Steve takes advantage of this, and when their tongues meet, Bucky can taste the barest hint of metal on his.

Just as Bucky's really getting into the kiss, that's when Steve pulls away, moving down his body and kissing as he goes. Bucky whines, trying to follow him down, but he's quickly stopped by the cuff on his wrist. Steve's all the way at the end of the bed, kneeling on the floor by Bucky's feet, and that's _too far away_.

"Be patient," Steve says in that Captain's voice again, the one that makes Bucky's heart hammer a little faster. He lays back obediently, keeping his head up to watch him with curiosity.

Steve's hands each find Bucky's feet, rubbing lightly in a way that almost tickles, and he turns his head to kiss the instep of his left, closing his eyes. It's all very soft and tender, if a little unexpected, and Bucky's just relaxing into the moment when--

"You still got a foot fetish?" Steve asks, eyes no longer closed and smiling slyly up at Bucky. Bucky groans exasperatedly and drops his head back against the pillow because _this little shit_.

"That was _one time_ ," he says loudly to the ceiling, while Steve cracks up at the foot of the bed.

"I dunno, you seemed pretty into it."

"That was seventy-two years ago, and your dumbass was the one who decided to run into battle barefoot and step on God-knows-what, so it had to be bandaged up-"

"They ambushed us at camp, Buck, was I supposed to pull my boots on while they were shooting at us through our tents?"

"-and I was just bein' a nice guy and kissin' it better! That ain't a fetish, that's me, bein' the good boyfriend that I am."

When he's finished with his rant, Bucky looks back down at Steve, raising an eyebrow as if daring him to challenge his story, but Steve's expression is soft and he's smiling.

"Yeah, you are a pretty good boyfriend," he agrees quietly, nosing at Bucky's ankle. Bucky grins, resting his head against his arm still restrained above his head, so he can watch Steve without straining his neck.

Steve makes his way slowly back up Bucky's body, paying loving attention to every little sensitive spot - the backs of his knees, the insides of his thighs - until Bucky's fucking _shaking_ with anticipation. When Steve finally gets to his leaking, aching cock, he doesn't touch it at first, taking his sweet time sucking each of Bucky's balls into his mouth individually, pressing a dry thumb against his hole just to tease. He'll never admit to it, but Bucky's whimpering - soft, desperate, breathy little sounds that he just can't seem to stop.

"Shh, you're okay, I got you," Steve whispers, almost too quiet to hear, rubbing his hands soothingly along Bucky's hips. And Bucky wasn't exactly worried before, but the words soothe him anyway.

Steve continues worshipping - because that's what it is, him giving every little bit of him attention and love like he's something precious. Even the stretch marks on his thighs and hips, both from unnaturally fast muscle growth back in the forties and from natural weight gain in 2014 when he was finally allowed to eat like a normal person, get reverent kisses and murmured promises of love.

When he finally, _finally_ gets to his cock, Steve's fingers barely brush the sensitive skin, just enough to hold it still while he ghosts his mouth over it. His eyes are closed again, hot breath washing over him, and Bucky watches mesmerized as his tongue pokes out to lick a slow, thin stripe up to the head. A dazed whine gets punched from Bucky's chest, which makes the barest hint of a smile show on Steve's lips.

The most attention Steve gives his cock, after a few soft licks up and down the shaft, is wrapping his lips around the head, gently sucking the drops of precum that inevitably spill out. Bucky's so on edge by then that it almost makes him come, his back arching off the bed, but Steve knows his body too damn well and pulls off as soon as he shows signs of finishing.

"Come on," Bucky moans, sounding more desperate than he wants to. His cock is bright red now, but Steve already abandoned it in favor of kissing up his stomach. As soon as Bucky speaks, though, he bites down hard, making Bucky jolt from the suddenness of it.

"I told you to be patient, remember?" Steve says sternly, one of his hands leaving Bucky's waist to tightly grip his long hair at the back of his head. Instantly Bucky's under his spell again, biting his lip and nodding jerkily, making his hair tug at his scalp even more. Steve's hard expression softens into one of satisfaction, and he kisses the place he bit, where there's already an impressive mark. "Good. Now let me do this for you."

Bucky doesn't complain the rest of the time while Steve makes his way up his body, worshipping as he goes. If he writhes and mewls and ruts the air, well, that's beyond his control. Steve kisses and sucks at his chest, his nipples, his collarbones, the edge of his metal arm again, his jaw, until he finally reaches Bucky's lips. He sighs in relief when Steve kisses him, his eyelids fluttering shut and body pressing up against Steve's warm chest. Steve hums contentedly.

Bucky's pretty far gone by this point, so it's not a surprise when he realizes Steve's been playing with his metal arm again without him noticing. He's already gotten it up over his bent leg, where he's straddling Bucky, holding the prosthetic by the wrist and guiding it to rest on the small of his back, just above his ass.

"Stay," he instructs in a whisper against Bucky's lips. Bucky nods minutely and watches as Steve leans over to the nightstand to fetch the lube. Oh thank _God_ , he's finally going to get fucked properly, his patience has paid off--

Except this is not what Steve has in mind, because as he likes to prove on a daily basis, _Steve is a little shit._

Before Bucky even realizes what's happening, Steve has coated the metal fingers of his left hand generously with lube. Afraid to question what Steve's doing, for fear of him staving off Bucky's orgasm even longer, he just watches him quizzically. Steve only looks up to meet his eyes once the lube is capped and set aside.

"I want you to get me ready," he says with his voice pitched low, sitting up on Bucky's hips, holding his metal hand by the wrist in front of him. Very slowly, Steve's hips roll back so Bucky's cock drags against his ass. Bucky's mouth is hanging open again.

"With _this_ hand?" He wiggles the metal fingers and they whir quietly.

"Yes," he answers like it's the most normal thing in the world, to want to be finger-fucked by a cyberkinetic arm. But there's a blush spreading from his hairline to his chest - Steve blushes with his whole body, always has - and that's his tell.

"Steve?" he prompts, his eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. He's not meeting his eyes, so Bucky waits it out.

"I really, _really_ like the arm, Buck," Steve eventually admits, quietly. He looks up at Bucky with the sweetest, shyest gaze, brushing his lips across the sensitive metal equivalent of the pad of Bucky's thumb.

Comprehension dawns and Bucky raises his eyebrows, a grin spreading across his face.

"Who's got the fetish now, huh Rogers?" He laughs, and that gets a smile and an eye-roll out of Steve. "All this time I thought you were just tryin'a make me feel better, come to find out you got a robot kink..."

"It's not a-- it's a part of you, that's why I like it! A very sexy part of you," Steve sputters defensively, but he's laughing. Bucky can't even properly process the amount of relief he feels; he may still be repulsed by the prosthetic, and the painful memories that he associates with it, and maybe he always will be. But Steve likes it, and that's important. They can make better memories with it, starting now. Bucky turns his hand in Steve's grip, considering.

"You'll let me know if I hurt you?" he asks seriously. Steve smiles softly and nods.

"I know it might not work," he admits, kissing Bucky's palm. "But I wanna at least give it a try."

Bucky nods and Steve grins brightly, making his heart flutter. Jesus H. Christ, he can't say no to this guy. Steve's got him wrapped around his little finger.

Steve ends up leaning back against Bucky's thighs, Bucky's legs bent up to support him and Steve's feet planted on either side of his ribs. This way Bucky's got the perfect view, and he makes a show of staring at Steve's cock and hole on display for him and licking his lips, just to see him blush again.

"Get on with it, Barnes," Steve teases, authority creeping back into his voice.

It's tricky with only one hand, but Steve's so nice and spread out for him, Bucky manages to push one slick finger in without too much trouble. Steve lets out a quiet gasp but no indication of pain, which Bucky takes as a good sign. He can feel both more and less than usual; the sensors on his metal hand are picking up more of the texture of Steve's insides and registering temperature and the slightest pressure, but the lack of the slick sensation creates a sort of disconnect between Bucky and the prosthetic. It's still no less fascinating to watch than when they fuck each other with toys, and within seconds Steve's telling him to add another finger.

By the time they work up to four - because Steve demanded it, even though they almost never go beyond three - Bucky's breathing hard and Steve looks absolutely wrecked. He's moving his hips as much as he can in his position, fucking himself almost desperately onto Bucky's fingers (which, evidently, don't hurt) and making the most obscene sounds, like he just can't get enough. His head is tipped back against one of Bucky's knees, eyebrows pinched together and mouth agape. Bucky's never seen him fuck himself so needily on anything but his cock, and it dawns on him that this must be a literal dream come true for Steve.

It ain't exactly bad for Bucky either, who gets to watch Steve's muscles fluttering around the solid girth of the metal, gets to feel this powerhouse of a man _tremble_ on top of him, gets to hear the most gorgeous wanton noises out of Captain America's mouth.

But he's never really been Captain America to Bucky, not really. Even after he got beefed-up, he was just Steve. Bucky's Steve, just a bit more durable, and finally recognized for the great guy that he is.

It's still damn hot to watch him fall apart like this.

But in the end it's really Bucky who's getting slowly taken apart, because he's watching this whole display and _still_ getting no attention payed to his dick, which is constantly throbbing now. His restrained hand clenches and unclenches with the urge to reach out and touch, particularly Steve's cock, rosy and curved up to his belly.

"Steve, please," he begs breathlessly, punctuating his words by curling two fingers forward inside of Steve, who moans and arches his back at the jolt of pleasure.

"Fuck, I... _fuck_ , okay," he relents, voice rough from the noises he's been making nonstop. The sound of it goes straight to Bucky's cock.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Steve pulls off, leaving his hole gaping. Bucky hands him the lube still lying next to him on the bed, and with shaking hands Steve slicks up his aching cock. Bucky lets out a sound like a sob at the contact, his hips twitching up now that Steve's weight isn't on them, sitting on his thighs. His cock is so oversensitive that the coolness of the lube is welcome.

When Steve finally lowers onto him, hands splayed on Bucky's chest, Bucky can't even make a sound, his breath coming out fast and shaky. It's exactly what he needs, his eyes rolling back from how damn good it feels, his still-slick left hand squeezing Steve's hip.

In contrast to the slow, methodical way Steve's been going so far, he gives Bucky no warning before he starts riding his cock _hard_ , leaning his weight on Bucky's chest and pistoning his hips like a pro. Loud moans are punched from Bucky's lungs, mingling with the obscene, wet sounds filling the air, and within seconds he's close to coming.

"Oh God please, please let me come, Steve, please," he rambles, chest heaving. He doesn't even know why he's asking permission, but it doesn't feel right to finish so soon, after Steve's worked so hard to get to this point.

"Not yet, baby, not yet," Steve pants. There's something erotic about being denied yet again, despite how painful it is, the amount of control that Steve has over him. 

Steve slows down slightly - good thing too, or it wouldn't have mattered whether Bucky had permission or not - his muscled body rolling in the most sinuous and seductive way with every downward thrust. Bucky whines high in his throat. 

"Want you to see how...how good you make me feel," Steve explains hazily, clearly losing focus. He's clenching hard around Bucky's cock, so he can't really complain.

Bucky knows Steve's body better than his own, so when he's getting close, it's easy to tell. That's when Bucky starts fucking his hips up in earnest, snapping against Steve's ass and getting broken moans out of him. At this point Bucky would usually start pumping Steve's cock with his right hand, but that's not an option right now, and he's still unsure of using his left. That is, until Steve grabs him clumsily by the metal wrist, and Bucky gets the hint and wraps his hand, still coated with lube from earlier, around Steve's dick. He's coming with a guttural moan after a few smooth strokes, spilling across Bucky's chest.

By now Bucky's shaking again, his eyes wet with unshed tears because everything feels _too_ good, too much. Steve's still riding his cock, and he's got to be oversensitive, but that little fucker is nothing if not persistent.

"P-please..." Bucky whispers pitifully, looking up at Steve with wide, pleading eyes because he's never been able to resist that. Steve predictably makes a sympathetic sound and takes Bucky's left hand, covered in his own cum, lacing flesh and metal fingers together and bringing it to his lips.

"Okay, Buck, go ahead," he murmurs, and Bucky's hips are moving faster before he even finishes speaking.

He loses track of time when he finally comes, eyes squeezing shut and his whole body arching, pressing himself hard up against Steve as he spills inside him. It's so fucking worth it, all that build-up, for the ecstasy and sheer _relief_ that wipes out everything else in his mind. Steve took good care of him, like he always does.

"Ohhhh _fuck_ ," Bucky moans shakily as he starts to come down from the high, body slowly going boneless against the sweat-damp sheets. Over his own heavy breathing, he can still hear the TV going in the other room where Steve left it on.

Steve moves up to unfasten the handcuff and Bucky wiggles his fingers to regain the feeling in them, bringing his hand down to eye-level so he can admire the red ring left around his wrist. His cock gives a halfhearted twitch.

"We gotta use these more often," he muses, indicating the handcuffs. Steve gives him a bright, sleepy smile.

"Wouldn't mind being the one cuffed," he admits with a shrug. Steve's got a favorite thing to do after sex, whether he tops or bottoms, which is to curl up tight against Bucky's chest like the little punk's trying to make himself small again, so that's what he does now. Bucky drapes an arm around his back and kisses his hair like he always does. He hums, intrigued, at the thought of restraining Steve.

"Mmm, maybe I'll cuff both your hands, fuck you with my metal hand you love so much," he murmurs sleepily, only half-joking. He can feel Steve smile against his chest.

"Nah, you just wanna tie me down so I can't get away and you can indulge your foot fetish," the little shit teases back.

"For Christ sake, Steve, it was _one time_!"

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for Jordyn, the Steve to my Bucky and the inspiration for this fic :)


End file.
